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trashogram · 2 months

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He Chose You (Pt. 6)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer wants you to be the Mother of his child. Rated E bc Explicit.

((This one fought me so hard, I just wanna get it out there and I’ll proof-read it later I’m sorry.))

The first time didn’t take, as you’d come to learn 3 days post-coitus with the Devil. It had left you bereft, not exactly disappointed but also not certain if you should go out and buy 150% proof alcohol to mark the occasion.

You settled for enough wine to dull your senses before sending a text with your Hellphone. The fact that inter-dimensional phone lines were possible was simply added to the list of not-even-gonna-think-about-it of things that came with your new reality.

A blood-curdling shriek from your pocket made you curse as you dove for it.

“Hey.”

“Hey-yy!” Lucifer responded cheerfully before clearing his throat. “So it um… it didn’t work?”

“Unless being pregnant with hellspawn looks and feels exactly like my time of the month, no. It didn’t.” You said.

He sighed on the other end, air blowing through the receiver and fucking up already poor reception. “Okay. Shit. Well, maybe we can work something else out—”

“I’ll just text you when it’s over and we can try again.” You replied as you leaned back against your headboard.

“You-you wanna try again?” Lucifer’s surprise made your eyes roll.

“Yeah, just give me a couple days.” You’d felt a wave of fatigue crashing over you.

Suddenly you were boneless, barely able to even hold the phone up to your ear. Lucifer’s hesitant delight barely registered yet you could imagine him behind closed eyelids, smiling crookedly with those ivory fangs.

“Y-I-uh, ok great! That works for me if it works for you!” He practically shouted. “Do you need anything in the meantime?”

“‘Mmmmffh, a nap.” Lucidity snapped back for a moment as you eyed the phone in your peripheral. “Also please don’t call or text me. I’m gonna throw this thing out the window if I have to hear someone screaming bloody murder one more time.”

—

Lucifer being startled by the ringing of his Hellphone wasn’t at all peculiar.

However —

The sound of a love song, though tinny and compartmentalized to the King of Hell’s coat pocket, made Asmodeus perk up.

He glanced down to see his diminutive brother rush for the device like his life depended on it. It was easy to feign polite indifference as Lucifer excused himself from the cafe table for a moment, but by the time the King had returned, Asmodeus was leaning forward expectantly.

“That’s new.” He said.

Lucifer looked up wildly, as if he’d been caught snatching aphrodisiacs from Ozzie’s own stores.

“Huh, wha? What’s new?” He laughed off the embarrassment, re-taking his seat.

Asmodeous sipped from his teacup, clocking the many idiosyncrasies Lucifer displayed.

He was flustered, still gripping the phone between his claws, and had perched on the edge of his seat so that he could bounce a leg against the ground.

“Love songs aren’t your usual style, babe.” The Prince spoke casually, but his eyes were bright.

It was delightful to see Lucifer stiffen as soon as he realized what his companion referred to. One of the best about the short King was how easy he was to tease, if you asked the Embodiment of Lust himself.

“Didn’t know you were finally getting out there, Louie.” Ozzie teased. “Were you gonna keep it a secret? Even from me?”

“Oh n— out there? Me?! Ha! No!” Lucifer shook his hand fiercely. “I’m not — it’s not like that! We’re not dating! I mean, some might see it like that but a lot of others wouldn’t! She wouldn’t… probably! It’s, ya see, actually — I — ahem, ah…”

His embarrassment grew into something stranger, more conflicted and melancholy. The teasing smirk on Asmodeus’s face flattened.

“It’s complicated.” He finished, looking down at his phone as if it were the sole reason for his sudden misery.

Ozzie wasn't soft on many (in fact he’d argue that being hard was his speciality) but his brother was one of the few.

The much larger Sin rested a hand against Lucifer’s back. “You wanna talk about it?”

—

The days that followed blurred together, monotony of aches and pains broken only by an insatiable libido. It was as if the promise of sex after this, however unfulfilling it might be, was the only thing keeping you alive.

Lucifer’s bizarre consideration held up over that time, surprising you enough that when it was time to give him a ring, you weren’t as dread-filled as you could’ve been.

He did, however, arrive in your home via furnace suspiciously quickly upon making contact with you again. His normally pristine suit and and impeccably coiffed hair were ruffled and singed, like he’d made a mad dash to get to you.

“Hell-Oh!” Lucifer had practically squeaked as you dragged him out by the lapels.

You’re so pent up that it’s hardly a surprise when you find yourself sitting on his lap, having manhandled the short King onto your couch.

His cold, smooth skin was still alien, but you powered through the initial aversion to chase after that zing that came with kissing him. It was addictive, even with the fear of being cut by his sharp teeth in the back of your mind.

Despite yourself, you took a second to break away and breathe.

Beneath you, Lucifer was positively flushed. His shiny, wet lips were parted in wordless awe, and eyes glazed over in his daze.

“Fuck.” He croaked.

You smirked, gripping onto the blond hair that had already been mussed and abused by overeager hands. Pointedly, you slid back and forth on his trembling lap. There was no way to ignore the hardness at his inner thigh.

—

The first drag of his cock against your walls made you shudder, arching as your head fell back.

Lucifer whined in his seat, claws digging into the plush of your thighs. The pain heightened the feeling of being stabbed twice, making your lower belly tremble.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fffffff —” His cries were so good, you couldn’t stop from grinding down onto him. “You feel so good. So. Good. You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart. I can't.”

“That’s ok.” You slurred, hands coming up to wrap loosely around his neck. “We can work on that.”

Lucifer opened his mouth, but you were already planting kisses against the corner of lips mouth, his cherry-spotted cheeks, the line of his jaw and the pulse beneath his ear.

—

Your hands were focused on exploring the planes of Lucifer’s chest and shoulders. He wasn’t muscular — or tall, obviously, but the lithe body intertwined with yours was more than easy on the eyes.

“You can touch.” It was hardly fair that yours were the only hands busy. The ruler of Hell was flat beneath you, artificial light from your bedroom lamp casting shadows on his marble chest.

Lucifer’s mulberry-dappled lids remained low, highlighting the yellow glow of his eyes. His claws slid up your hips, reverently tracing your frame as you bounced lightly.

“If you insist, princess.”

He was more coy after the first few rounds, an easier grin sliding across his face. The trembling touches against your breasts spoke of the still-nervous creature you’d first been introduced to.

—

Daylight was waning again when you found knelt, back pressed against Lucifer’s chest. He fucked into you wildly, teeth pressed into your bare shoulder.

The thought of him biting into you didn’t sound so frightful anymore. In fact the image set butterflies off in your stomach.

That and the way he held you close, wrapped vice-like around you like a boa constrictor.

“No baby, don’t go yet!” When you squirmed, Lucifer nuzzled into the side of your neck, breathing heavy. “Just like this. Please, baby.”

He pleaded into your neck, grip tightening to where you couldn’t breathe.

—

“Here.” You guided his hand, settling it between your legs.

Lucifer’s thrusts had grown shallow and uneven, but hadn’t quite stopped. He seemed entranced, watching as you positioned his thumb over the bundle of nerves just above where you two were joined.

“Gently. Watch your claws.” You murmured along with your hands-on teaching.

When you felt he’d gotten the message, you sighed and concentrated on the circular motion against your clit. Lucifer remained attentive, moving clockwise as the pace he’d started before picked up again.

In moments you tensed, pleasure sparking along your pubic bone. It built up as your eyes closed, head tipped back as you let yourself enjoy the pressure both inside and out. Your hips jerked upward of their own accord, core trembling and cunt spasming.

Your partner whimpered at the new intensity, which only egged you on. Before you knew it, you two were rocking into a chaotic rhythm.

With slit eyes, you saw Lucifer looking down at you, flustered yet rapt over your every little response.

“Yeah?” He asked breathlessly.

You nodded. “Mm-hm.”

It was difficult. You could feel the tension in your belly contracting, the heat and pressure building against your clit. The feeling was mounting to where you couldn’t help your keens, your moans, your whimpers.

It ended with a choked sigh. You arched from the bed, head falling back as you let your legs tremble and shake around him. The convulsions pulled the Devil in deeper, and the feel of him was enough to make your eyes roll back in your skull beneath fluttering eyelids. Another gush came at the thought of being so full you could feel it in your stomach.

Lucifer watched. His face was nearly as red as the apple that adorned his hat, knocked off of your bedside table. He had the expression of someone seeing a falling star for the first time. Stunned, eyes gleaming, unable to comprehend something despite how beautiful it was.

The former Angel lowered himself to capture your mouth with his own. He pressed luxuriant kisses to your lips, all while his hips stuttered between your thighs until he was humping into you, refusing to separate skin from skin.

His release was coupled with a heated groan, muffled by the slide of your tongue against his. You were glowing inside out, warmth blooming in your core as you held onto Lucifer tightly.

—

The woman had invited you up into her tree. It was a different tree from the last, not bearing any fruit but lush with green needles and strong boughs that wouldn’t break.

She looks over her shoulder at you cheekily. “Aren’t you glad you decided to join me?”

You playfully scoff and roll your eyes. “You don’t need to be so smug about it.”

“Oh I think I do.” The blonde tilted in your direction, arms coming to wrap around you. “I won.”

You stay that way, watching the nettles shake in the passing breeze.

“Everyone loves a winner.” She says at your side.

You frown. “I love you no matter what.”

The woman sighs.

“You might not always.”

—

Light humming woke you from your doze, along with the repeated motion of something against your cheek.

It wasn’t until you’d opened your eyes that you realized it was Lucifer humming and caressing your cheek tenderly. He was nose(less) to nose with you, seemingly admiring your face slackened with sleep.

“What’s that from?” You rasped.

“Hmm?” The King stroked an errant hair behind your ear.

“It’s a movie.” You continued, repeating the notes in your head. “Right? It’s from a musical…”

“You like musicals?” Lucifer asked, seemingly surprised. Fangs poked out of his close-lipped smile, and he looked goofier than ever before.

You copied him, helpless to how silly he made everything. “What’s not to like?”

The lightbulb went off. “Oh! Cabaret. That’s where it’s from.”

“Yeah!” Lucifer moved even closer, the flat of his face pressing against your nose as he nuzzled you for guessing the right answer. “It’s kinda old, isn’t it? How’d you guess?”

“Psh, you think my threshold for pop culture is only as long as the last ten years?” You teased, arm skating down his side so that you could pinch his behind.

“Hey!”

***

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#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar

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razzle-n-dazzle · 2 months

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I just read some of your works and god do you write good better than the actual show I would even say.

I really want to request a Yandere headcannon for mainly Ozzie and Fizzarolli they don’t get enough love as they do, but with a little twist

Whichever you choose I would love either one you pick cause im indecisive.

1: a powerful reader maybe even more stronger than Ozzie being lovers with the two

Or 2: a chubby but physically strong reader that could lift Ozzie with ease as example

If you do see this I hope you consider writing this, you have such a lovely writing style and I would love to see what you cook up

Also call me 🥟-anon if you will cause I hope to request and talk more

ᯓ★ Murder is Okay, Shutting Us Out Isn't. Yandere! Asmodeus & Fizzarolli / Overlord! Reader | Oneshot TW! - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK: romanticizing yandere(s), obsessive behavior, def not proof read (because we die like Adam in this household /j), Vox (/j), boner mention (no sexual content), self harm, yelling, possessive

ᯓ I actually loved both ideas you gave me, so I'm going to mash then both together into one! For that, I'm going to give you all a little crash course into the background for the Reader (you) in this story so things make a little more sense: The reader, though an Overlord, is both physically and magically stronger than Ozzie, though doesn't show it off often. Also, this happened due to their mix of blood; The reader is the child of an an old overlord and a Sin (I'm going for Wrath in this story) and had gained the physical strength from their overlord mother and the magical strength from their Sin father. With this they're able to be known as the Wrathful Overlord, or 'The child and will of Wrath', though Satan doesn't claim them to be his own and has no interest to. Also, no the Reader isn't stronger than other Sins, just Ozzie for this case. Since Ozzie is claimed to be the weakest (or one of the Weaker) Sin that we currently know of, the Reader is matched right around his level. Yet they, much like Alastor, cannot beat other Sins or even Adam, as even with their strengths, are set back by the rather large power difference. So with that out of the way, please enjoy!:

ᯓ You had been living with Ozzie and Fizz for a few months, silently having moved away from your district on the Eastern side of the Pride Ring after their proposal. While it was not uncommon for love to bloom in hell, even with the eternal suffering or the large amount of (usually) taboo topics being put on display down here, you were still not big on having your private life being posted for all of hell to see. Especially those in the Pride Ring, where you were sure Vox would take any chance to slander and drag your name in the mud for having a 'blasphemous' relationship. And really, you didn't feel like cleaning up the blood of another Sinner. Oh no, not because you killed them. Dear, Lucifer god no! Why do that when you had two perfect body guards at your beckon and call?

ᯓ "Honestly, I don't even understand how there can be blasphemy down here. It's hell, God is not watching what we do and I pity him if he did." You would mutter, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching News 666 on your cellphone silently with Fizz; Who had became curious open hearing the news topic and bounded over, wrapping his snake-like arms around your waist twice. He squeezed you a little tight, yet you didn't mind, especially when his head was rested upon your shoulder. You could practically see the growing smirk on his lips before he even spoke, "You know everything we do down here is blasphemes right? That's why we're in Hell, not Heaven. I mean the murder, the sex, the gr-" Though Fizz's little list was caught off short as you hushed him, pressing a quick finger up against his lips.

ᯓ Ozzie was cooking in the background, occasionally taking peaks behind him to make sure you nor Fizz were doing anything stupid; Like trying to cook despite knowing neither of you could do so. It was always a nice gesture until Ozzie has to get the kitchen repaired... again. "And this in, News 666 and it's broadcasting will be disturbed quickly for a message from The fucking V's themselves." Katie Killjoy would crack her neck to the side, seeming oh so annoyed at the interruption. You were too, and Fizz didn't miss the way your face scrunched. "You know Tom, their news isn't even repu-" Katie tried to shout before their segment was cut off, their news source becoming engulfed in The V's logo before the man of the hour, Vox himself, overtook the screen. Him and his snicker, you knew this couldn't be good.

ᯓ Vox never hit the air unless he knew something, unless he wanted something to happen, unless this was his calculated and curated response to something.

ᯓ And the last time that happened, Alastor wiped the floor with him.

ᯓ Fizz drew away from your shoulder a little, his eyes narrowing at your growing irritation before he glanced back towards Ozzie, who already had his arms crossed in confusion. Sure, they've heard about this Vox, mostly from you, but they never expected you to have this much of a detest about him. What happened between you and this TV-head that they didn't manage to dig up? And most importantly, recent or not, did he ever hurt you in anyway. . . or was he planning to?

ᯓ "This just in, news is starting to come up from higher-ups, and close friends, in Wrath Town that their leader, supposed their supposed Overlord, the Child of Wrath, themselves, have gone missing!" Vox stated, trying to carefully keep his voice leveled yet failing miserably; From the twitch in his eye and the wide, plastering grin across his flat face, you could just tell this was another Alastor situation. Yet an Alastor situation that was not pointed directly towards Alastor rather You; Which you had saw coming, maybe even expected it, but fucking Lucifer did you hope you could at least get a good year under your belt before Vox came in to spread 'miss information' all over the Pride Ring. All just to keep his viewers attention on him, just to keep his support. What a loser.

ᯓ You would scoff, trying not to laugh at his obsessive allegations, which were true you guessed, as Fizz and Ozzie silently listened from beside and behind you. While you didn't seem alarmed, or even frightened at the least (as they were sure you would be, seeing as this seemed common for Overlords to not get along) they sure were. Well, not alarmed per say, rather on guard; carefully lingering on the words that Vox was so carelessly spewing to all of those who watched his broadcast. And you noticed how Fizz drew back closer, leaning over your shoulder to glare at your phone, to glare at Vox like Vox might feel his stare, like he was daring Vox to say something else; All the while you couldn't help but laugh, chuckle, giggle, and kind of make fun of Vox as he continued on. His senseless chatter played in the background as you tried to wave off your fiancés' concerns, "Please, guys, don't get worked up over him, he's no threat; More like an annoying bug under everyone's shoe." "One who, from what we hear, likes to stick his non-existent nose in other people's business." Ozzie would comment from the stove, his glare still harsh on the screen even as he flipped over the bacon in the pan. His tone was leaking with annoyance, or maybe irritation and ire is are better words; Either way, you shrugged your shoulders as he continued, "Really, doesn't he have like any other news? that's all basically weightless if it's coming from other people's mouths!" "It's gossip, it keeps his viewer's attention and support up. That's the whole point," You would explain, slightly rolling your eyes at the crazed look Vox gave you. Granted, it was through the screen, but, "I would have thought he would know better than to talk about me, especially since I've shattered his screen more than once." Though Fizz was less amused, "You both give than man way too much credit-" Was the only part of his commentary he could get out, hands on the counter now, before a shout from Vox drew all of your attentions back in.

ᯓ "Oh, ho-ho!" And there was a cackle, one that caused your eyebrows to frown downwards and scrunch your face. One that rang out like an annoying fire alarm and drew a growl from Fizz's throat and a flicker of hellish flame from Ozzie's coat. It's like you all could smell that the shit that Vox was going to spew. "THIS JUST IN," And there was a slam of his hands on the table, "I JUST GOT WORD FROM A TRUSTED SOURCE THAT THE WRATHFUL OVERLORD IS NOT ONLY NOT IN THEIR PITIFUL, SHIT-HOLE OF A TOWN, YET THEY'RE NOT EVEN IN THE PRIDE RING!- Where the fuck are they, you might ask? Well, not fucking here and maybe that's for the better, this place was turning into a shit down with them around." His grin would tease you from behind the screen, and you grew slightly worried that he could see you. That, as his eyes widened and he drew closer to the screen, that he could see right through it. . .

ᯓ "You're in the fucking Lust ring, you absolute SLUT! What the fuck are you doing hanging around an, who's that? An Imp and- And is that Asmodeus himself in the background!" Clack! You would drop your phone like it had burnt you and stumbled backwards, not out of fear, you could never be fearful of someone like Vox, yet out of . . . what would be the word? Ire? Exasperation? Irritation? Preservation? Fizz was quick to lock his arms, just to keep you from stumbling back too far and hitting against the countertops near the stove, potentially burning yourself; As Ozzie stepped up, standing protectively between the phone and the two of you, the flickering of his growing detestation and bubbling anger slowly flickering around his coat, which threatened to burst flames. "This just in, your little Wrathful Overlord, has not only abandoned the Pride Ring yet is sleeping with the Sin of Lust and his weak-dick, limp ass Imp!" Vox's cackle echoed around the room, "That's so fucking sad!- Oh, looks like no one will ever have any sort of reason to be scared of you anymore," And his name spilled out from his lips with venom, poisoning the air with his slithering voice. That was, until his broadcast was cut off, cutting his maniacal laughter short, with a crackle then pop. It seemed like Ozzie had enough of listening to Vox, and seemingly had enough of your phone, as he had slammed his fists into the counter. Effectively ending the broadcast and your phone all in one go.

ᯓ And nothing but silence filled the room, just as you were sure nothing but silence (and soon an eruption of hatred and irreverence) filled the Pride Ring, and Wrath Town.

ᯓ "Fuck. ." Was the words that left with an airy breath.

ᯓ "THAT FUCKER IS SO DEAD!" Was Ozzie's first words; his hair combusting into flames, his irritation and outrage boiling over and finally having struck that match.

ᯓ Maybe it was slight shock overwhelming you, never having expected your engagement to be outrighted for everyone in the Pride Ring to hear, or maybe it was Fizz carelessly (accidentally) spinning you around, but you found yourself exasperation against the kitchen counter; Your eyes still locked on where your cellphone was now intended into the counter. "I've got the rope!" Fizz's voice barely registered in your ears, along with the sounds of his mechanical arms and legs moving to easily wrap himself around Ozzie. "Let's go kill that fucker!- or maybe tie him up and leave him exposed and naked on his own stupid broadcast. Like, really, who does he think he is trying to come for us like that?" Fizz's agreement with Ozzie's irrational solution caused a growl, a very lion-like one, to seep through Ozzie's gritting teeth, "A two timing nobody, that's who he is, and I won't stand for it! He comes for what's mine and I'm going to show him who the FUCK he's dealing with!"

ᯓ You know, maybe you've enabled their behavior a little too much; Sure, you loved the way they grew overprotected about you (and as you were sure they loved when you did the same) yet logically, you knew you had to stop them. When news gets out about Ozzie and Fizz going up to the Pride Ring and killing, or humiliating, an overlord not only will Vox's words be taken as facts, which can cause a whole other set of issues, yet Lucifer might also get involved. Of course, though, your knowledge about how Sins worked together and how they could interfere with each other's rings was limited. Yet, you can only guess a Sin killing an Overlord in another person's ring would just cause some sort of uproar.

ᯓ So when Ozzie, with Fizz coiled around his arm as to not get burnt, were about to leave the kitchen-living room, you had to act fast. Even while a little dazed, a little out of your own body, stilling trying to reel in the information of the situation that just happened, you dashed forward towards them. Or maybe your feet did so because they knew you had to catch them, and it sure felt that way rather than your own doing. It all felt like you were watching through a pair of another's person's eyes as you rushed over, your tail trashing out to stag the Ozzie's heel and trip him (you would have to apologize later). It bought you some time to slid in between him and floor, effectively catching him in your arms. "Yeah, as to hell we're going to go do anything boys! We're," You slammed the door closed, effectively walking away from it, "Staying here!" And that was your final verdict and that was what you were going to do as to make sure you can control this situation as much as possible. While frazzled and your finances' not thinking properly, giving into their own natural urges that some would call taboo (even for hell), this was no time to do that. Ergo, this was no time to be out murdering people!

ᯓ At that time you failed to notice the blush and wide eyes that had sprung to Ozzie's face when you dropped them both onto the couch, as well as the slight boner he had to hide by crossing his legs; Which Fizz defiantly noticed and teased him for with a snicker. Often times, not on purpose, did Fizz and Ozzie forget that out of all three of you, you were the strongest. Physically and magically, as you tended not to flash it off like some demons like to do, instead you flashed where you shined mentally. Though, damn, does it get Ozzie every time you swiftly come in and pick him up like he was weightless, with the same ease he picked up Fizz and you (even after you had told the first few times he didn't have to, later learning that you were conscience about your weight due to your chubbier figure). So it managed to calm Ozzie down, at least a little for the time being. Fizz would follow after, not really looking to murder people by himself - or at least not wanting to or not believing that he could.

ᯓ Calling your name from the couch, yet to no effect, the two would watch as you walked away from them to only circle right back round and leave again; pacing around the room with a constipated look on your face, leaving them confused, and slightly concerned, on the couch. Fizz slinked down to sit on Ozzie's lap, seeing as Ozzie had sat up to make sure you were alright while walking circles around them. Them both noticed quickly the way your tail trashed dangerously, the slight glare you gave to your phone anytime you passed through the kitchen, and the way your left hand clutched and curled in on itself. Fizz was sure your claws were digging into the skin of your palm, where marks from previous punctures of your claws laid fresh. "Hey," Ozzie started, calling out your nickname yet watching it effectively fall onto death ears. Even so, he continued, what's going on?" An invitation to talk to them, an invitation that received the acknowledgement of you hitting the tip of your tail against the floor to ceiling glass. Your own way of letting them know you heard him, yet needed a moment to gather your thoughts. To find something that can fix this situation without it blowing over and becoming bigger than you needed or wanted it to. To find a way to sweep and brush it under the rug. To just- make it like it never, ever fucking happened!

ᯓ Crack!

ᯓ You barely felt it, the smoke of Wrath infesting your very mind and blurring every other sense. Yet, Fizz and Ozzie caught it with ease. They heard the crack of your bone, the saw the way your nails not only had dug into your skin with the increase pressure yet suddenly broke through your palm and to the other side of your hand. Fizz covered his mouth, trying to hold in the gag that threatened to escape from the shock that filled him. Ozzie, wrapping an arm around Fizz to support him up to his chest to comfort him, would stand. . . and he didn't know how else to get your attention but exploding; Calling your name with a tone he rather not use with you. "WHAT?" Yet you would snap back, a green lining the inside of your eyes, right by your pupils. "WHAT CAN BE SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU CANNOT WAIT, OZZIE. I'M TRYING TO-" A tug at your wrist, Fizz, despite not being able to stand the sight if your claws puncturing through your hand, dragged you over to them. He rose your hand up to eye level once you were in front of the two, and he didn't want to make you watch the black blood that flowed down from it, that coated your claws thickly, he knew it was the only way to get you to pay attention. To realize that you hurt yourself in the panic of trying to fix a problem that could best be fixed together. To realize the scowl that was placed upon Ozzie's face at your actions, yet the underlining concern he had. To notice how Fizz was a bit sickened at the fact that you could so easily hurt yourself, and hurt that you wouldn't talk to them and effectively just shut them out again. Even though they have both told you countless times that you could talk them through your thoughts, that they can help you, that they want to help you! Even if you felt like you needed to handle everything that happened by yourself, even if you felt like the world was crushing in they were here! They were always here for you, and they were ready to help as long as you just talked to them.

ᯓ Fizz and Ozzie, out of everyone and anything, care about you (and granted each other) the most. And to see you physically hurt yourself over someone you told them not to worry about . . . well it stabbed them in the heart and made them ever so more concerned.

ᯓ "I just, I need time. I can figure this out if I'm given enough time." You would try to explain to Ozzie and Fizz as you sat on Ozzie's desk, where Fizz usually sat to replace any problem limbs. Fizz sat beside you, securely holding your right hand in his own and nuzzling up to you; His head resting against yours. Ozzie was in front of you, carefully trying to bring your claws out of the palm of your hand without hurting you, so he could then disinfect the wounds and wrap them up. He would have gotten a doctor, but felt a bit too fired up to let any medical professional touch you when you were so vulnerable. "Honey, get us, we know," Ozzie started, then let out a heavy sigh. "You say that every time something shitty happens in Pride. It's like- your go to thing!" Fizz added on, his tone a bit chirpier than Ozzie's; trying to lighten the mood, bring at least a small tug of a smile onto your face. Ozzie would soon apologize as you let out a hiss, feeling your claw carefully yet strikingly painfully being pulled out from your palm. You squeezed Fizz's hand, he nuzzled his head further against yours. And yet, you still spoke through gritted teeth and hissing, "I just! There never seems to be- FUCK, Ozzie that shit hurts!" "Love, I'm sorry, but I'm trying my best to make it as painless as possible. Yet, it's kind of hard when you managed to stab yourself right between your own bones." Ozzie mumbled, quickly working on the exposed wound, trying to wrap it with a towel just for the time being so he could work on the other three fingers (your thumb didn't puncture through skin, but did leave a good wound on your middle finger). Fizz would let out a nervous bit of laughter, trying to turn the situation away from your pain, just so you wouldn't have to think about it. "Hey, why don't you tell us why. . . you were so against us going to go kill the guy! I mean, I'm sure it would be easier than thinking of a whole counter plan and stabbing yourself through the hand, wounding yourself for someone you-" "Froggie," Ozzie warned, though his tone was still soft, noticing quickly how he began to ramble out of nerves. "I don't think that's helping."

ᯓ Yet you didn't mind much, it kind of did set your brain a little more straight and screwed in properly. So in a way you kind of did need Fizz's nervous rambling right now, "No, no it's fine. I. . . needed that. I just," A frown stretched upon your face, letting out a heavy sigh that was quickly replaced with a painful hiss and quickly followed by another apology from Ozzie. Your face scrunched at the pain, yet softened as you felt Fizz trying to comfort you once more. His hand squeezed your undamaged one, and when you turned your head towards his, he connected your foreheads. The distress that came from your fiancés were slowly becoming more apparent to you; Especially by the way Fizz looked into you, his own eyebrows frowned and scrunched, worry laced around his eyes. You felt the pressure of Ozzie wrapping your newly oxygen exposed wound with the towel, trying to cover it gently yet firmly enough. "I just. . . didn't want them to hurt you." The words left your mouth before you could think about their weight; Even if they were nothing but the truth, all the worry that struck your brain the moment Vox had called you out was all due to your worry that Fizz and Ozzie might get hurt. That they might be caught in some sort of cross fire between Vox and you and you would have to deal with their blood on your hands. That was a thought your couldn't bear to stand.

ᯓ The silence was thick for a good few minutes as you kept your eyes squeezed shut, afraid to open them and face Ozzie and Fizz. You could feel as Fizz leaned in, nuzzling your nose against his in an attempt to comfort you, coax you to open your eyes. But he just saw they way they twitched and you squeezed harder. You could feel as Ozzie paused, his fingers gently grabbing around yours yet not giving it's usual tug. And without looking at them, you felt the nerves build in your stomach at the thought that you might have offended them in some way, or they were disappointed in you for some reason. Yet they weren't. Logically, you knew that they weren't any of those things, yet they worrying thoughts still crept in your mind. "Baby, no. . ." Ozzie's sweet voice would ring through the unwanted chatter in your mind, almost like he could hear or feel what was happening in your tornado of a mind. "No, you don't have to worry about us, we were more worried about you. Trust me." You felt Ozzie's engulfing hand rest against your cheek and Fizz nod against your head, "Oh yeah! Our names have been racked through the mud since the whole Mammon incident. Trust us, we can take a little shit, but-" And Fizz paused, always a little hesitant to speak about these topics, "This is new to you, and we know how important your work is to you." "And Just like Sins, I'm sure an Overlord's power also comes from your reputation among people. And that guy, well, directly went for your reputation," Ozzie mumbled, his thumb rubbing sweetly against your cheek. He couldn't dent it, but he loved how they were a little chubbier than most, making your skin a little more plump and soft. "And for that I would have killed him! But you don't want that, for some reason I still don't understand!- But, we respect that. Just know we're here to help anyway we can." "Yeah just say the word!" Fizz playfully moved his head to nuzzle his nose against your other cheek, effectively earning a smile from you and a few bits of suppressed laughter that dared to bubble out your throat. You weren't sure why it was always ticklish when Fizz nuzzled his nose against your cheek, yet it was. "Okay, Okay!-" A giggle slipped through your lips, "I'm sorry. . . I should have, talked to you guys instead of-" You paused, chewing over your words. Yet, you didn't have to think for long as Fizz cut in, "Pushing us away?" "Hurting yourself?" Ozzie swiftly added after, both with their own sassy yet caring tones as they stared down at you. "Yeah. . . that." You would mumble, with an heat rushing up to your cheeks out of embarrassment. You didn't realize you were actually being that big of a dick to the two most important people in your life. Wow, you really did need that reality check from Fizz earlier.

ᯓ "Well, thank god we love you." Fizz's sarcastic voice trailed out with a cheeky grin spread across his face, showing off his pointed teeth and his ever so adorable cheeky attitude. "Or else this would be such a different story! You might have ended out on the streets, or worse, dead." And even if his words would be less than comforting for anyone else, you couldn't help but smile at them; Shooting your own cheeky glare back, finally gaining the courage to open your eyes again. To bask in your lovers' faces instead of cowering in the darkness, fearing a rejection that was never there to begin with. Something that would have never came. Ozzie took the chance to, while you were laughing and smiling and paying attention to Fizz rather than your own pain, to gently yet swiftly take out your third claw. Instantly, your tail trashed and a hiss escaped your mouth. And while he felt bad, Ozzie couldn't help but shake his head and rather seriously state, "Yeah, but don't ever do this again." "Yeah no, I don't think I can take looking at you stab through your own hand either." Fizz agreed, shaking his head. Either way, he went back to nuzzling you to comfort, trying to distract you from the pain of your hands as Ozzie moved the towel over your third wound. One more to go. You tried to keep in the giggles that threatened to escape due to their words, yet you couldn't help it. With a roll of your eyes and a sarcastic, yet playful, tone, you muttered back to them, "Well, fuck, if I ever get stabbed I'm never coming to either of you!"

Home | Masterlist Tag list: @lily-ann-b

ᯓ★ All posts/fanfictions posted under this blog is owned by @razzle-n-dazzle. Please do not steal, copy, or plagiarize the works! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated.

[ A/N: Also, thank you so much for this request, it was a joy to write! I can't wait to hear from you again the future! And thank you to everyone for supporting my work, I've gotten so many nice comments in my inbox and I promise I'm trying to get through everyone's requests, or as much of them as possible. There's a good handful of them that request the same thing, so they will be clumped together, just because I don't think I can make enough content to make four separate posts about Adam with a Goth girlfriend or Yandere Lucifer lol! But, thank you all for the support, really, I wouldn't be able to do this all without you :) ]

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simphornies · 2 months

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A/N: A quick little one-shot for Valentine's!

Word count: 1.3k (1,394)

Warnings: implied sex at the end, that's about it I think.

Valentines Special [ Vox x Reader x Alastor ]

You woke up to the sounds of loud whispering and thumping inside of your dark room. You squint and reach for the remote for your lights. But it wasn’t shere it usually was so you blindly walked around your room with your hands out. After hitting yourself a couple of times on your furniture, you opened your door to let light in.

Your eyes adjusted to the light and as soon as they did there was a big sign on the wall in front of your door that said ‘HAPPY FUCKING VALENTINE’S DAY’ decorated with flowers.

“Oh fuck it’s—”

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, MY DEAREST.” Vox exclaimed excitedly.

You groaned in response, “Vox I just woke up.” You rubbed the sleepiness out of your eyes. He grabs your hand and leads you to your bathroom. To your surprise it was covered with petals. The bathtub was ready for you, steaming. “Aw. Vox…”

“Go go. Get ready.” He grinned, proudly gesturing to the tub with both arms out, “The day we have planned for you is amazing!”

You smiled and gave him a quick kiss, “Thanks, babe. I’ll be right out.”

“Take your time. Meet us in the lobby.” His screen lit up with hearts and left you to have a relaxing bath.

As soon as you walk out of the bathroom in your robe, you see Alastor waiting for you by your bed. Beside him were a set of clothes. He looked over to you with his signature grin. His ears flicked with delight upon seeing you, “Hello darling! Please please. Pick your poison.” He points to the three sets of outfits.

One was picked by Alastor, another picked by Vox. It was obvious from the color schemes. The third outfit caught your eye. It was a nice blend of both of their colors. A purple outfit adorned with hearts, the stitches were blue on one side and red on the other. It was the obvious choice for the two to not fight for “who you picked” for the day.

You picked it up and the others instantly disappeared as soon as Alastor snapped his fingers. “Wonderful choice! I’ll leave you to change, my doe.” Before leaving he gave you a sweet kiss on your cheek.

When he opened the door you saw Vox standing outside, basically shaking in excitement. “I can stay and watch you cha—” The door shut behind Alastor. “—nge if you want me to, dollface.” He finished. You heard a thunk soon after.

You laughed at their antics and proceeded to get into the outfit of choice. If your constant presence around the two overlords proved enough evidence of your relationship with them, this outfit definitely does. You managed your hair into a braid and went towards the lobby.

You see your two lovers arguing, as per usual, about something. They quickly, or rather Vox did, shut up as soon as they saw you approach from the corner of their eyes.

“Hello boys.” You smiled, “Thank you for the wonderful start to this day. Happy Valentine’s.”

They picked a side and wrapped their arms around yours with pride. A kiss placed on both sides of your face from them.

“We’re going to take you out for breakfast today.” Vox states.

“Where to?” You ask, a bit excited.

“Cannibal town!”

“Ozzie’s!”

They both spoke at the same time and immediately glared at each other. You cleared your throat, “Ozzie’s would be a nice start.”

Vox stood up straight while Alastor pinned his ears back against his head. You pulled him closer, “Don’t pout, little deer. We’ll go with your choice before we go to breakfast. A snack for the trip, okay?” You giggled.

"Hmm. I’ll settle for it.” He hummed, ears perking back up with pride.

“Alright babes, let’s try not to murder anybody and each other today, okay?”

“No promises.” They said in unison.

Walking around town with two overlords wrapped around your finger was definitely something that gained a lot of attention. Every single year. You decided to give them a break from your scolding every couple of years when it came to practically attacking any demon or sinner that dared to stare at you. They couldn’t care less about the looks they got but they drew the line when anybody even attempted to approach you.

While they were distracted, you sneak away to buy them gifts. You got them both cufflinks and jewelry that matched your necklace. Of course, in their own colors. You bought Alastor a shiny new pocket watch and Vox a locket. Both gifts contained a photo of you making a heart with your fingers within them. As soon as you left the store, a tall demon approached you with sinister intent.

“Hey there, sweet cheeks.” He grinned. You gave him a disgusted look. “What’s a pretty face like you doin’ alone today?” His eyebrows wiggled up and down to which you rolled your eyes.

“None of your business and I’m not alone. Now if you’ll excuse me. I have to get going now.” He blocked your way before you could step any further. His hand lifted your chin up and you growled at the audacity. “Get your filthy hands off of me.” Your eyes glowed red.

He laughed, “And whatcha goin’ to do about it, toots?” His goons popped up from behind him.

“I really don’t want to paint my lovely outfit today with weak blooded bitches.” You groaned as you slapped his hand off your face. “So I’ll let them do it.” You smiled sweetly.

“Who?”

You took a deep breath in, “HE TOUCHED ME.” You screamed and without a second’s notice, black tendrils stabbed a couple of the goons, catching the others. The one who dared to touch you was immediately burned to a crisp with electricity. You stood there with your arms crossed, watching the massacre unfold in front of you. You dodged every lose limb that flew towards you and reveled in the screams.

Soon after Vox and Alastor took your hands, “Are you alright?” Vox asks.

“We lost sight of you for a second there, my dear. You must avoid leaving our sight.” Alastor added.

“You’re right, my apologies. But! I got you both gifts.” You handed them their respective boxes. They opened it and were ecstatic. They both put their cufflinks on proudly, decorating their sleeves with your initial. Alastor had already placed the pocket watch in his pocket, a little keychain dangling off of the chains while Vox put the locket around his neck.

“Oh thank you, dearest! You did not have to!” Alastor exclaims.

You smiled and pinched both of their cheeks lovingly, “Anything for you boys.”

After a long day of Vox and Alastor dragging you around everywhere and ensuring nobody was favored over the other to avoid pouting, you arrived back home exhausted.

You dropped to your bed with a happy sigh, “Today was fun. Thank you both.”

Alastor works quickly to take your heels off, rubbing your feet to soothe the pain from walking around so much. Vox rubbed your scalp gently. You purred in delight at their acts of service.

“You two are certainly outdoing yourselves this year.” You laughed.

“Anything for you, my darling doe.” Alastor hummed,soft jazz faintly coming from him.

“That I can agree with. Today is an extra special day for you, babe.” Vox emitted soothing static white noise.

“You know…” You began, they both looked up at you, “The night isn’t quite over yet, my loves.”

With a swift move, the overlords were on their backs on your bed. Each of your hands trail up their chests, “I think you two deserve a little…treat for today, hm?” You whispered seductively into their ears.

Alastor’s ears twitched and Vox glitched. Both from excitement. They exchanged a look before they looked at you.

Pretty soon you were a mess under them, your body filled with pleasure. Safe to say they definitely got their fill at the end of the night. After a myriad of hickeys, bite marks, and love scratches, they were both knocked out cold and cuddled up in your hold. You sighed happily, enjoying their warmth and comfort. You snapped a quick picture of the three of you cuddled up under the blanket, saving it to your special folder titled “Valentine’s Night” before drifting off to sleep.

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader x vox #theyre like ur bodyguards #ur their princess #no plot just vibes #fluff

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morganbritton132 · 1 year

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Eddie decides that he wants to do a whole Day in the Life of a Middle School Math Teacher thing when Steve gets the go-ahead that Eddie can come talk to his class. Steve thinks that’s dumb because it’s not like he has an interesting life.

The first video in the series starts the night before. Eddie is filming Steve while they get ready for bed (mostly removing the five hundred pillows Steve insists they need

on their bed) while he warns Eddie that these kids are not like The Party. Middle school kids have not developed empathy yet and they’re mean in like, an accurate way. It’s like having 16 to 22 Erica Sinclairs every class period.

It then cuts to the morning where Steve is lecturing Eddie on the do’s and don’t’s. DO encourage students to find safe creative outputs to express themselves. DO talk about your struggles in school and how you overcame them. DON’T tell them about the illegal shit we used to do. DON’T antagonize student athletes and, for the love of god, DON’T climb on the tables. This lecture spans every room in their house as they both get ready.

The second video is filmed inside of seventh grade English teacher, Mrs Casal’s Honda Civic. Steve doesn’t drive anymore and Eddie insisted on joining his teacher carpool, a decision he has come to regret and Patty Casal drives like she wants them all to die. He’s squeezed in the back between Ozzy and another teacher that keeps fussing with his jacket collar.

The whole video is just zoomed in on Eddie’s face while you can hear four middle school teachers telling the most batshit insane stories you’ve ever head. The caption is: Why am I having RV flashbacks?

The third Tiktok is just Eddie filming Steve reviewing the last test with the students before Eddie’s Q&A. The text overlay says, “Why is this so hot?” Hot for Teacher is playing.

Eddie doesn’t actually film his little Q&As with Steve’s classes because it feels weird to film kids he doesn’t know, but a lot of the students do so videos go up on Tiktok of Eddie answering each question sincerely while still maintaining his usual chaotic Eddie charm. A student called his music old and Eddie flipped backwards off his chair, grabbing his chest, “You wound me! Rock n Roll never gets old and it never dies!”

He does talk about the hurtles he had to jump to get into the music industry, how his uncle bought him his first guitar and that he had to teach himself because they couldn’t afford lessons. He talked about school and his three repeats of senior year. He talked about how Dustin and Nancy sat down with him and worked out a way to teach him that actually worked. One student asked why he was with a math teacher when he could be married to a celebrity and Eddie tells them, “Don’t let the dorky sweater fool you. Mr H, over there is a total bad A S S. Coolest guy I’ve ever met. He’s saved my life.”

Someone does try to ask about the murder allegations but Steve shuts that down so fast no one dares to try again. It gives Eddie the worst case of heart eyes ever seen by man.

Steve’s class before lunch asks Eddie if he wants to eat with them and he says of course. It’s only by good fortune that one of the students catch on video Steve calling ‘Mr Munson’ back to his desk and then tells Eddie that if he climbs on a table, Steve will give him detention.

Eddie does, in fact, stand on the tables. He gives a big dramatic lecture about forced conformity but instead of talking about jocks and basketball, he talks about instagram and Tiktok and how it’s constantly hounding kids into looking a certain way, acting a certain way, and it’s destroying creativity. And that’s what’s killing the kid’s.

And Steve does, in fact, walk into the cafeteria mid-way through this speech. He lets him get through the important bits before calling out for Edward Munson to get off the table.

Someone post this whole speech on Tiktok and Eddie duets the video from detention because Steve was not kidding.

<- Last Post | Next Post ->

#Eddie after Mrs Casal hits a curb on the carpool home: Babe you know we could get you a driver #Steve who taught Robin to drive and regularly gets driven by her: what are you talking about?#I think Eddie would take offense to people saying you shouldn’t do stuff because it’s ‘cringe’ and how originality is just cut out of #everything now in order to get popular on social media #like Eddie likes posting to Tiktok but he’s not blind to the negative impact it has #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson tiktok saga

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stobinesque · 11 months

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talking could, if we'd just dare (you know that i'll forgive you), pt. 1

@steddie-week day 6: misunderstandings / "You Lookin' at Me Lookin' at You" by Ozzy Osbourne | ~5.5k words | G or T inspired by this post from @inklessletter!

If Eddie was being honest, he’d never actually paid that much attention to Steve Harrington. Sure, it was impossible not to know of him. But for most of his life it had simply been…unimportant, to know about the various goings on of the Class of ‘85’s royal court. Harrington was rich, a bit of a bitch, and kept company with other rich bitches, and so Eddie neatly categorized him with all the other pretty, rich jocks, and went about his day. Life was easier when there was an order to such things. Keep the smalltown, upper-middle class heroes to one side, and the freaks and degenerates to the other, and everyone could live in an uneasy sort of harmony until they walked the stage and left this rathole behind.

Of course, repeating senior year thrice had put a wrench in that plan.

Meanwhile, Dustin Henderson had thrown the whole damn toolbox into the whole not-paying-attention-to-one-Steven-MiddleName-Harrington plan.

And whatever the fuck was going on now had just blown everything out of the water.

(Or into the water, as the case may be—except the freaky parallel hellscape they’d all dove into seemed to be utterly devoid of the substance, so maybe the original metaphor worked just fine.)

So now he had to contend with the fact that Steve Harrington was a) a pretty nice dude to recent victims of smalltown witch-hunts who had just been thrust into what was apparently a years-long government conspiracy involving monsters and mind-controlling wizards, b) a bit of a dork, c) friends with a whole bunch of dorks, most of whom were four or five years younger than him, d) admirably—though perhaps self-destructively—protective of said dorks, e) just as much of a badass as Henderson claimed, and, most distressingly: f) extremely hot while doing so.

The being a protective badass part, not all the other ones.

(The other parts Eddie was retroactively filing under “adorable,” and “cute.”)

The expression Steve got on his face when Eddie lobbed his battle vest at him was also priceless, so at that point Eddie figured, fuck it. What did he have to lose from some harmless flirting? The chances of him making it out the other side of this both alive and un-incarcerated were dwindling by the second, and it’s not like he ran any risk of things going anywhere. (Harrington might be a good dude, and alternate dimensions and monsters and superpowers apparently existed, but Steve Harrington being anything other than a straight man with Traditional American Values™ strained credulity—and the Munson Doctrine—far past any acceptable limit.)

After all, if there was one thing that Eddie had actually learned from D&D, it was that a little bit of flirting and fun could take the sting out of any TPK.

🦇🦇🦇

If Steve was being honest with himself—which he’d been making a concerted effort to try to do since fall of ‘84—he could admit that his…jealousy…of Munson predated Dustin joining Hellfire. His whole climbing-on-cafeteria-tables schtick was kind of obnoxious, sure. But up until he’d wound up flunking his first try at senior year, Eddie'd had this sort of dorky-but-cool aura that Steve wished he was apathetic enough about other people’s opinions to achieve.

For a man who seemed to genuinely believe he was a coward, Eddie Munson was so…loudly and unapologetically himself. In Hawkins, Indiana—a place that quite literally wanted to kill him for how much of a freak he was. And, sure, some of that came down to the whole wanted-for-murder thing. But the man had also spent the better part of the past twelve hours flirting with a former jock—whom Eddie himself admitted to thinking was a douche up until a couple days ago!—so Steve had the sneaking suspicion that there was probably a corner of the town that already had it out for Munson long before Chrissy Cunningham’s body was found in his trailer.

And it wasn’t that Steve wanted to get into metal, or that Dragons game, or start wearing hand-printed t-shirts and attaching his wallet to a chain. He just wished that even after all the years of monsters, and government threats, and Russian torture, he didn’t still feel the need to hold himself to standards set by other people.

If anyone was a coward, it was Steve.

And there was something kind of…nice—reassuring, even—about the fact that Eddie seemed to feel the same way—but in reverse—about him. Like together maybe they could take the bravest parts of the other and make them their own.

And underneath it all, Steve could admit, was the fact that Eddie was…pretty.

So. Steve was having a bit of a crisis

“Robin, I’m having a crisis.”

“We’re all having a crisis, dingus,” she shot back, slapping at his shoulder with the back of her hand.

“No— no, not that.” Steve started emptying one of the bottles of vodka they’d procured into the half-dead grass. “I’m talking about the whole—” Steve waved a hand over towards where Eddie and Dustin were horsing around. “The Eddie thing.”

“Oh, you mean the fact that he’s been blatantly flirting with you since you got eaten by bats?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, Robin, I’m talking about the blatant flirting.”

“And…why is that causing a crisis?”

Steve fish-mouthed at her. “B-because…” He leaned forward with a finger held aloft, ready to waggle it in her face. He paused. Frowned. “Well, because…” Steve threw up his hands. “I don’t know! A few days ago the man thought I was a douche. Literally just yesterday he was, like, hot-and-cold trying to throw me at Nancy, while also ogling my chest hair, and now he’s calling me ‘big boy’ and trying to get into my personal space? It doesn’t make sense, Robin!”

“Welcome to the club, buddy.” She raised her brows at him pointedly. And, yeah, that was fair, he guessed.

“And,” He started again, “And– I’ve also got Henderson insisting that I win Nancy back—he does seem to have finally dropped the whole are-you-secretly-dating-Robin thing, though, which—”

“Oh, thank god.”

“Yeah. But, on top of that Nancy has also been making eyes at me, but she’s still with Jonathan so I don’t know what to do about that. And it’s all just a mess, Robs! I’m a mess.”

“Yeah, well, that’s been true for ages, Stevie.”

“Thanks, Robin. That’s very helpful.”

“What? I’m just saying, if you’re going to tell me that I’ve got to ‘be myself,’ and put myself out on a limb with Vickie, while you’re out gallivanting with Helen or Jackie or whoever—”

“Heidi—”

“Whatever.” Robin waved her hand dismissively. “My point is: you keep throwing yourself at all of these girls who only know the old you—even if you’re trying to give them the new-and-improved model—and you haven’t even tried to go after a guy, and I think we both know why. And now you’ve hit the jackpot of what every tragic gay teenager in smalltown America can only dream of: you’ve got someone blatantly, and undeniably into you, who you also like back, and you’re telling me that you’re having a crisis? Need I remind you of the tableau we were treated to back at The War Zone?”

Steve sighed. “I know, Robs. You’re right.” Steve jammed a funnel into the neck of the bottle he was working on, and the two of them kept building molotov cocktails in the dying evening light, as Steve tried to reassure Robin that she still had a chance with Vickie—which she did, and Robin took his mind off his own impending disaster. But, if Steve had even a shadow of a chance of getting to hook up with a guy, Robin deserved to have a romance of her own. As much as Robin was afraid to see it, Steve was pretty sure he recognized that conflicted look Vickie’d had in her eyes when she’d spotted Robin in the store. There was something there, he was sure of it.

But maybe Vickie was like him. Maybe she’d only just learned this new thing about herself. Robin—and presumably Eddie—had had at least a couple of years to sit with this knowledge about themselves and come to terms with it. But for Steve (and Vickie?) it was still so scarily and terribly new. With girls, Steve knew how to play the field. He knew what was expected of him—what role he had to fill. But with Eddie a guy, all the rules went out the window; all of his scripts: useless. He’d have to start from scratch, and build something completely different from anything he’d been taught to want or expect before.

Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, though. Because Robin was right: they had more important things—end-of-the-world shaped things—to worry about. His love life could wait. Eddie could wait.

They all just needed to make it out of there alive.

🎸🎸🎸

Eddie survived.

They won.

Eddie survived, and so did everyone else, and they won.

Eddie kept repeating it to himself, because he couldn’t quite believe it.

He couldn’t make heads or tails of the fact that in the end running away was exactly what he needed to do to make sure they all made it out in one piece—more or less.

He’d walked right out of hell with nothing more to show for it than a few scratches up his sides, and a ring of bruises ‘round his neck. In the end, Steve was the only person other than Red who needed a hospital stay of any kind, because what would have been manageable wounds on day one, had become life-threatening after days of infection and improper care.

A future in a state penitentiary also seemed to be out of the cards. There was probably nothing any of them could say or do to convince the general Hawkins populace of his innocence, but Dr. Owens and his ilk had crafted a cover story believable enough to win over Powell and Callahan, at least. More to the point, though: all charges had officially been dropped, and the case was closed.

Now there was just the mortifying process of figuring out how to move on. Or at least forward.

That was the part you didn’t see in movies. No one showed the recovery. Because what was so interesting about watching someone pull their life and body back together? As though healing wasn’t just as much a part of the story as the falling apart.

Eddie wasn't ashamed to admit that it was driving him a bit mad. Because these kids all seemed to be seasoned veterans at it. They hadn't just snapped back to their relatively-easy-going-but-bitchy baselines by any means—Lucas and Dustin especially seemed incredibly subdued in response to the extent of Max's and Steve's injuries, respectively—but they moved around one another with a care and familiarity that spoke to years of experience.

“How did you do this?” Eddie scrubbed a hand through his hair, yanking at the roots. He and Robin were posted by Steve's bedside—he still spent most of his days semi- to unconscious. And while Eddie didn’t necessarily think it made a whole lot of sense for him to be spending more time at Steve’s bedside than the kids did, Robin was only ever dragged away from him kicking and screaming, and as the newest member of the apocalypse posse above the age of twelve, he was in desperate need of her guidance.

“How’d I do what?” Her typically-raspy voice sounded paper thin, and there were deep, dark circles under both eyes.

“I don’t know—!” Eddie flapped a frantic hand around, like he could manifest words and meaning into being. Something about it made the corners of Robin’s mouth twitch up. “Any of it? You–you dealt with a flesh monster, apparently, and you’re just...walking around on two feet, probably ready to graduate—which is more than I could guarantee for myself—”

“Hey, you will—”

“Not the point, Buckley! The point is, up until this new bout of freaky shit popped into existence, you seemed like you were walking around Hawkins without a care in the world. So how’d you do it? What’s your secret?”

Robin scoffed. “If you think I was walking around without being terrified every day, you either weren’t paying attention, or you’re a lot less smart than I gave you credit for, Munson.”

Eddie grimaced. “Sorry, sorry. That’s not what I meant, I just…you seem like you managed to pull yourself back together—whereas I feel seconds away from total collapse.”

“Yeah, that’s not just a you thing.” Robin twisted one of her rings around her finger. “But you wanna know what kept me upright? It was Steve. I don’t think I would have made it through the last eight months without him. And I know he’s gonna be alright, but I am still terrified that something will happen and he’ll get ripped away from me.”

Eddie frowned. He didn’t think he’d been picking up on those kinds of vibes between Harrington and Buckley, but the way she spoke about him… “Are the two of you, like, a thing?”

Robin barked out a laugh. “No! Not at all. I mean, he is the most important person in my life, and I would both kill and die for him. But, like, in a normal, platonic way.”

“...I’ll take you at your word for the ‘platonic’ part, but there is absolutely nothing normal about what you just said. You two are freaky for each other.”

Robin giggle-snorted, and it scrunched her nose up in a way that filled Eddie with warmth. Despite everything about his…everything, he’d never been short on friends—but it always felt nice to find another one. “Yeah, yeah I guess we are.”

“Mmm…Bobbie? ‘Zat you?” The beeping of Steve’s heart monitor picked up a little speed, and the man in question’s eyelids fluttered open. Robin immediately unraveled from the folded-up position she’d adopted in the hospital chair, and reached out to take his hand into her own.

“Yeah, Stevie, it’s me.”

Steve squeezed her hand, before his eyes started scanning the room—going wide when they landed on Eddie. “Oh. Eddie.” A light pink flush broke over his face, and he averted his gaze almost as quickly as he met Eddie’s. That kept happening whenever Steve woke up, and Eddie didn’t know what to make of it, but it always left him off-kilter in a way he didn’t want or know how to put a name to. He always took it as his cue to leave.

“Well,” he started, with forced cheer, and a shit-eating grin. He pushed himself up from the chair and dusted off his knees. “I’m gonna leave you two lovebirds to catch up,”

“Not lovebirds—” Steve slurred, at the same time Robin exclaimed, “Ew, Munson!”

Eddie just cackled and sauntered off with a jaunty salute.

🦇🦇🦇

Steve felt like he was losing his mind.

He'd been out of the hospital for a few weeks now, but he almost wished he was back there, because every waking second was just a never ending parade of pain and confusion.

Fuck, why did almost dying always hurt so much?

The upside of being awake and ambulatory, was that Eddie had finally stopped running out of the room whenever Steve was awake for longer than two seconds. The down side—which was unfortunately directly connected to the aforementioned upside—was that Eddie was being weird.

And, okay, Steve had an admittedly shallow pool of evidence from which to draw his comparisons from. But the fact remained that Eddie’s behavior towards him pre- and post-Vecna-slaying were worlds’ apart. And he didn’t know how to fix it. He’d tried everything: playing coy, bringing him small gifts, finding excuses to talk to him one-on-one when the rest of the group was gathered together. But none of it seemed to work.

What Steve wanted was to just be able to rock up to the trailer with a bouquet of flowers and ask him out to a night at Enzo’s. But even without the whole recently-wanted-for-murder thing, the two of them going out on what was obviously a date in Hawkins was not only a bad idea, but actively dangerous. And without his typical romance rituals to fall back on, Steve was at a loss as to how to proceed, when the object of his affection was acting so damnably fickle.

“I just don’t get it, Rob. One minute he’s calling me ‘big boy’ and getting all up close and personal, and the next he’s looking like I killed his cat!”

“You have got to stop using other people’s trauma as analogies for your love life, babe.”

Steve waved a hand. “Mrs. Henderson’s not here.”

Robin threw up her hands. “And that makes it okay?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Fine, whatever.” Robin ruffled her hair in frustration. “Maybe he’s just nervous!”

“Nervous! Why would he be nervous?”

“I don’t know, Steve. Why are you nervous?”

“Because I like him, and I don’t want to get hurt again!” Steve shouted, startling himself by the force with which the words came tumbling out.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Steve sighed. “I mean, it’s not just that, though, it’s…” Steve waved a hand into the open air between them. “I don’t know how to do this, you know? If this was a girl, I’d be thinking ‘oh, she’s playing hard to get—’”

“I can’t believe that’s a real thing people do,” Robin deadpanned.

“I mean, sometimes it really is just that they don’t like you—except that then they don’t keep trying to, like, hang out and joke with you—which Eddie does, he’s just hopelessly awkward about it.”

“Steve. Eddie is a hopelessly awkward person. It’s like a defining character trait.”

“Well he wasn’t with me.” Steve wiped a hand over his face and groaned. “I’m just nervous I misread the whole thing, you know? And if I did, and I ask him the wrong thing in the wrong way…what if he doesn’t want to see me again? Like, at all?”

Robin reached out and took his hand. “I hate that you have to know what that feels like,” she said, soft and careful. “But even in the wild event that Eddie is either a: entirely straight, or b: just not into you, I don’t think there’s any version of him that wouldn’t want to talk to you at all. So you should ask him out.”

“Okay, Rob,” Steve sighed. “Only on one condition, though.”

“Oh, no. Ohhhh, no you don’t—”

“You’ve gotta ask out Vickie,” Steve finished, holding out his hand with a smirk.

“Uggggh, fine. Deal.”

🎸🎸🎸

Steve was acting weird.

He’d been acting weird since getting discharged from the hospital—acting all shy and blushy one second, and then turning around and bringing him a new set of dice the next—but it’d really been cranked up to eleven for the past week.

And, look, Eddie knew he was new to the monsters-are-real crew. He knew that in order to make space for him they had to alter whatever their established dynamics were to fit him into them. But that didn’t account for the fact that all of a sudden Steve seemed to be completely unable to string two sentences together in front of him.

Maybe the two of them weren’t quite friends yet, but he missed the ease with which they’d been able to talk and be honest with each other only a couple of weeks ago. Hell, they’d had more chemistry together down in the Upside Down.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Maybe that had been the problem all along. Maybe Steve had finally clocked his doomsday-flirting for what it was, and was trying to establish boundaries. Eddie thought he’d pulled back since they'd all crawled out of hell—broken, but alive. As soon as the danger was clear there was no reason to play the bit anymore, right? It’s not like his flirtation attempts had ever been more than a way to liven up what had been an unmitigated shitstain of an experience. Sure, Harrington was pretty, and nice—and there was clearly more to him than met the eye. Eddie had really enjoyed getting to know him over the course of the past few weeks. He wouldn’t mind getting to know him better, if he was being honest. But it looked like the door was closing on that chance if he didn’t straighten things out.

“Hey, Harrington?”

“I thought I told you to call me Steve, Munson.”

Eddie smiled his ‘malicious compliance’ smile and clasped his hands behind his back, rocking onto his heels as he said. “Alright: Steeeve.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but there was a little smile on his face that belied the general bitchiness of the rest of his demeanor. “What do you want, Eddie?”

Eddie spread his hands out in front of him like he was unfurling a map into the air between them. “Just figured I ought to clear the air.”

Steve frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You know—the whole reason you’ve been all weird around me lately? I figured it’d be best if I put all of my cards on the table.”

The frown dropped off of Steve’s face—replaced by an expression that Eddie couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t…bad? There was no apprehension to be found there. Steve looked almost expectant. Hopeful, maybe. Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense—but Harrington didn’t make a whole lot of sense, so maybe Eddie was just misreading whatever he was seeing there.

“You know it was all just in good fun, right? That it didn’t mean anything?”

The frown returned. “What are you talking about?”

“Back in the Upside Down. You know I was just messing with you, right, man? Just a bit of good ol’ fashioned I’m-about-to-die flirting, you know? Nothing to get all worked up about.” Eddie kept a wide smile fixed in place, tried to really lean into the whole ‘non-threatening gay guy’ vibe—an uphill battle for him, specifically on one of his best days. He’d do jazz hands if it’d help sell the performance any better. But each word out of his mouth felt more like a lie than the one before.

A thin fissure appeared on Steve’s face—a crack that Eddie could almost see through, but not enough to be able to make any sense of what was on the other side. “Oh,” Steve said. His voice was shaking and Eddie couldn’t figure out why. It set off alarms in the part of his brain that was always primed to run at the first sign of danger. “So you’re…not gay?”

Eddie frowned in confusion. Of all the ways he thought Steve might react, that was not one of them. So Eddie forced a laugh, trying to disarm the question. “Oh no, I am a flaming homosexual. I just want to make sure you know that doesn’t mean I’m interested in you.”

The frown slid off of Steve’s face, and the fissure smoothed itself away like it’d never been there. The Steve standing before him was blank-faced as a statue, and it made Eddie want to puke. In all his worrying about Steve being uncomfortable with the idea that Eddie was hitting on him, specifically, he’d entirely forgotten to be worried about Steve being straight up homophobic. At least he wasn’t throwing punches. That was something, right? But Steve was looking at him with such a totalizing coldness behind his eyes that Eddie felt like he’d been left out to sea.

Steve gave a stiff nod. “Right, of course not,” he said, but the words came out wooden. He threw a thumb over one shoulder and twisted on his heel, back toward the beemer. “I’ll just…I gotta go.”

And then Harrington turned his back to him, and walked away.

Eddie didn’t have a crush on Steve.

So why did it hurt so much to watch him leave?

⛵⛵⛵

Robin sped down the stairs when she heard the banging at the door. There weren’t many people who would bother turning up on her doorstep unannounced. Even fewer who would make such a concerted effort to try to knock it down with the force of their pounding fists.

She swung the door open to find a tear-stained Steve standing before her.

“What happened?” She gasped out. Was it back? It couldn’t be back. El and Will had both sworn on pain of death that it was over. Maybe there was a new horror in town? Maybe Nancy had gone missing? Or Dustin? One of the other kids? Maybe Eddie?

Steve cut off the racing of her thoughts with a sobbing gasp. “Nothing, Robs.” Somehow, he looked worse than he had after the Russians. His head was hung low, and Robin could swear there was a shadow of phantom-bruising around his eyes. Like he’d been emotionally decked in the face. He took a step forward to come inside at the same moment that she took him by the wrist and yanked him across the threshold.

“What do you need?”

“Bathroom,” was all he said. And then Steve swapped his-wrist-in-hers for her-wrist-in-his and he pulled her further into her own house, toward the second-floor bathroom. When they reached it, Robin plopped down on the floor with her back against the tub while Steve took up his position with his back pressed up against the toilet bowl.

“What happened?” She whispered.

Steve was silent for a long stretch of time. He turned his head to the side, as though he was trying to look out of the small frosted window high up on the wall beside him. “He doesn’t want me.”

“Who? What? What are you talking about, Steve?”

Steve turned back to face her. “Eddie. He doesn’t want me.” Steve no longer sounded sad—he sounded vacant.

Robin’s nose scrunched up like she’d smelled something wrong, because that didn’t make sense. Robin might not be good at clocking other gay people—she wasn’t that good at reading people, period—but it’s not like Eddie’s flirting with Steve had been subtle. And even beyond that, he was always looking at Steve while he was asleep in the hospital bed, in a way that Robin thought meant something… There was just no way that Eddie didn’t have at least a little bit of a crush on Steve, right? So what had he said to make Steve so certain about that he didn’t? “How d’you know that?”

Steve laughed, half-hysterical, as he tipped his head back onto the lid of the toilet. “He said it didn’t mean anything—the flirting.” Steve wiped a hand clear across the length of his face—chin to forehead—before digging his fingers into his hair. He laughed again. Or—it was more a puff of air, than anything else. And there was definitely no humor behind it. Just a bitter kind of resignation. “And then—he said—he told me he was gay, but that he just wanted me to know that it doesn’t mean he’s interested in me.” Steve covered his face with both hands and let out a broken sob. “God, he and Nance should compare notes.”

Robin could feel the lines carving an angry space between her eyebrows, and a fire in her heart. How dare he? Maybe Robin had misread Eddie's whole vibe toward Steve—but how dare he just trample all over and discard his heart like that? It didn’t make sense—but it was happening, and she had to fix it, because no one was allowed to break her other half.

“Hey Stevie?” She asked, trying to keep her tone light.

“Yeah?”

“Where do you keep your little nail bat nowadays?”

🎸🎸🎸

Let it not be said that Eddie Munson didn’t know how to pull off a top-tier wallow. Ozzy’s pleading vocals were pouring out the speakers, while Eddie was laid star-fished out on the mattress, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers, and torturing himself with the memory of Steve Harrington biting into the tail of a hell-bat.

Is it me or is it you?

Things are so much different now

But nothing lasts forever

He really should have known that whatever kind of rapport he and Harrington had going was too good to be true. Once a rich dickhead jock, always a rich dickhead jock, right? He almost felt bad thinking that. But what else was he supposed to think? The second Steve Harrinton had found out he was gay he’d turned his back on him. That was pretty cut and dry.

A loud banging at the trailer door cut through his thoughts and over the sound of Ozzy singing looks and glances can't repair, talking could if we'd just dare.

Eddie had half a mind to just ignore it, but there were even odds that it was one of the UD Crew as it was a member of Hawkins’ resident angry mob. So Eddie peeled himself off the bed, leaving Ozzy blaring behind him, and yanked open the door. “What—?” He started, but came up short when he registered an absolutely livid Robin Buckley staring back at him.

Eddie hadn’t thought to take into consideration the idea that the person at the door might be a UD Crew member taking up the role of angry mob members. But Robin Buckley was standing on his stoop looking half-ready to commit a murder. The second the door was open, she shoved past him and into the trailer.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Munson?”

“Wh-what are you talking about, Buckley?” Covering his face with a piece of hair wasn’t enough—he wanted to melt into the floor. Had Steve really sent Robin to beat him up for being gay? That was some next level gymnastics in avoiding making physical contact with another man so that you don't seem gay.

Robin yanked at her hair and started pacing around the common area, glaring daggers into the floor (but thankfully not at him). “What am I talking about, he asks! You really are a medical grade idiot, aren’t you?”

“I—”

“No, shut up, I don’t want to hear it.” Robin abruptly swung around on her heel to rush at him and jab a finger into his chest. “You broke Steve’s heart. And I don’t care if you were never into him—because I know that you can’t help who you like, or love—but you had no right to be so fucking cruel about it!”

A penny dropped.

“Robin. What are you talking about?”

Steve was heartbroken? That didn’t make any sense. He should have been relieved, he should have—

Robin laughed, hysterical, and threw her hands into the air. “I am talking about the fact that you told my best friend who has been pining over you for fucking weeks that all of the very obvious flirting you’ve been doing ‘didn’t mean anything,’ and that you just had to let him know that you weren’t interested in him specifically.” Robin paused to take a deep breath and kept barreling on. “And I get not wanting to lead someone on, Eddie—but even I know that was the least tactful way you could have gone about letting him down.”

Eddie shook his head, backing up toward the nearest wall like a cornered animal, because what Robin was saying didn’t make any sense. “I— I don’t—I mean, I do like him. I thought he didn’t like me! I thought he was straight!”

That brought Robin up short. Her shoulders remained set into a tense line, and her brow was still furrowed in distrust, but some of the unrelenting ire slipped away. “You didn’t—? Did he not—? What the fuck, Stevie!” The last part Robin muttered under her breath.

“Did he not, what, Buckley?”

“He didn’t ask you out?”

“No. What? Was he planning to?”

“Yes, numb nuts! Steve’s been trying to ask you out for weeks! I mean I guess mostly this past week—but that’s because before then he’d just been trying to beam the knowledge directly into your head through your thick skull.”

“Oh, shit.” Eddie’s heart dropped into his stomach as the full ramifications of what he’d said caught up to him.

“Yeah, ‘oh, shit,’ Munson.”

“Buckley—” Eddie rushed over to clap both of his hands onto Robin’s shoulders. “Robin. I’ve gotta fix this.”

Robin rolled her eyes. They were still creased at the corners, but the rest of her seemed to have softened a bit. “Yeah, you do,” she said—all low and serious. “You’re gonna have to fucking grovel.”

Eddie nodded. “Can you help me?”

Robin narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “But let me make one thing fucking clear, Munson: I am doing this for Steve, not you, capiche? You put one toe out of line and I’ll go to the Wheeler house and grab one of Nancy’s guns.”

Eddie held up his hands in placating surrender. “Message received, loud and clear.”

Robin nodded, satisfied.

Eddie grinned back. “Let’s go get my man.”

there is now a part two!

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steddie week #steddieweek2023 #steve harrington #eddie munson #(albeit a couple hours past mignight my time but that's just been my pattern thus far)#I don't want to put a steddie fic in the robin or st/bin tags but please know that robin is central to all things in steve's life #including this fic #for everyone who wanted a part two: it now exists #read writes

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thefreakandthehair · 7 months

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@eddiemonth prompt, oct 4th: Rejection | Arsonist’s Lullaby - Hozier | Lost a/n: pre-steddie post-s4, angst with soft, happy ending because I'm a marshmallow. un-betaed because I'm challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to series on ao3

All Eddie Munson has ever wanted to do is play music.

That’s it. There are other hobbies, of course, other things that bring him joy– D&D, fantasy novels, art– but ever since he was a kid, whenever a teacher would ask what he wants to be when he grows up, it’s always the same answer.

I wanna play music.

As a kid, it seems less daunting. He just has to practice, he just has to play, he just has to have the passion to make it big. To be the next Kirk Hammett, or Eddie Van Halen, or Ozzy Osbourne if he can teach himself to carry a tune.

Making friends is hard, but he manages to find a few in middle school who can play the instruments he can’t– drums, bass. Eddie takes the role of frontman, not exactly a singer still but he’s charismatic enough to get away with it at their school talent show.

High school comes, and Corroded Coffin is revamped. New vibe, new members. He’s older now, a little more jaded with each rejection.

No one wants their EP, recorded by hand in Gareth’s garage onto cheap cassette tapes.

No venue will let them play, and Eddie knows that it’s probably because they’re in high school but hadn’t The Cure started in high school?

No one believes in them, trying to push them– especially Eddie– to consider more successful careers, safer paths.

But eventually, they book a regular gig at The Hideout and Eddie’s certain this is it. This is their big break. Until they play week after week, staring at the same five plastered faces every Tuesday. If they can prove themselves though, the owner will have to let them play on a Friday or Saturday.

He never does.

The final nail in the proverbial coffin comes after Eddie’s final senior year. Being accused of murder should have beefed up his credibility if nothing else– he’s already been traumatized, terrorized, and hunted like a goddamn dog, nevermind almost killed via hoard of angry mutant bats. Surely, he’ll catch at least one break.

And then the owner at The Hideout tells him he can’t play there anymore.

The hoards of people who still blame him for Chrissy Cunningham’s death are too much for him to manage himself and, in his words, Eddie’s driving away good business. His heart shatters, his breath catches, and Eddie leaves without a word because if he were to try to speak, all that would come out is either an enraged scream or a choked sob and Eddie doesn’t want to risk either.

He drives around aimlessly for an unknown amount of time, just circles around the outskirts of Hawkins. Maybe I’ll just leave, he thinks. Indianapolis might be far enough. Maybe Chicago. Fuck it, maybe Argyle and Jonathan can put me up for awhile in California. Eddie wants to go somewhere that makes him forget just how lost he is, how unwanted and forgotten he’s become. Being the social pariah is only fun when he’s making speeches on cafeteria tables, not when it boots him out of his one and only career path.

Somehow, he ends up in Loch Nora. He can’t face Wayne right now, he doesn’t want to bother Robin or Nancy, he’s already let Jeff, Gareth, and Freak down in the worst way imaginable, and if he goes to his mom’s or Chrissy’s tombstones with one more sob story, he’s afraid they’ll start haunting him. Steve’s become a friend over the last year or so it makes sense. Process of elimination and all of that.

He doesn’t have the mental bandwidth to realize that he’d started driving that way before he ruled everyone else out.

Steve welcomes him like he always does and offers him a beer, sitting with him in companionable silence on the couch as they watch Monty Python and The Holy Grail and laugh at the same parts. Eddie knows Steve can see that he’s upset but instead of asking questions Eddie isn’t ready to answer, he just sits a little closer with their thighs touching and one arm strewn over the back of the couch, just barely grazing Eddie’s shoulder.

The movie ends and Steve moves to switch the tape when Eddie finally speaks up.

“The Hideout kicked us out. Can’t play there anymore.”

Eddie sees Steve freeze from behind before turning, his eyebrows knitted together above his nose. “Are you fucking serious?”

He nods and sighs, lifting one hand to chew on this thumbnail as he looks at the wall beyond Steve.

“That’s bullshit, dude. Why? Because of the protestors or whatever?”

He nods again.

“Want me to go down there? I’ve still got my bat around here somewhere. It might be nice to swing at something that’s not trying to like, eat me.”

Eddie huffs a small laugh through his nose and meets Steve’s eyes, their righteous anger blending with his own as he sees Steve cross his arms over his chest. It’s hard not to stare.

“Well, then at least I wouldn’t be the only guy in this town wanted for murder.”

Steve shakes his head and just chooses another movie, Howard the Duck this time, before returning to his spot on the couch. It’s one of Eddie’s favorite movies but he can’t focus to save his life because Steve is even closer now, his arm draped fully across Eddie’s shoulders and creating a space for Eddie to easily just… rest. So he does.

The title sequence starts and Eddie’s head drops to the side, resting on Steve’s shoulder. It’s one of his favorites but he can’t follow the plot to save his life. All he can focus on is the way Steve’s fingers trace symptoms and shapes against the cotton of his tee shirt, and the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the feeling of Steve’s head leaning against the top of his.

“I had a new song and everything,” Eddie whispers, surprising both himself and Steve.

Steve hums and tightens his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, a ghost of a hug. “Play it for me sometime?”

All Eddie Munson has ever wanted to do is play music. And maybe he still can.

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helluva-shit-show · 7 months

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So I was re-watching "Oops" grabbing some screenshots for a different rant when it occurred to me, damn, Striker really should not have been in this episode. I know it's not a hot-take, lots of ppl have said this already, but I mean even for the way the writers want the show to go, right down to tone, they really botched an opportunity. I'll let someone else talk about how Striker working with Crimson makes both antagonists so much less intimidating, right now I'm just gonna focus on the narrative so far, and unfortunately for a lot of critics of the main ship it's pushing, this will have a lot to do with Stolitz.

So when we first meet Striker, it's in "The Harvest Moon Festival". The episode starts with Stolas inviting Blitz and the gang to be his royal guests at said festival. Blitz makes him promise it's neither murder work nor a sex thing and Stolas agrees. This is (to the audience's knowledge) the first time Stolas has invited Blitz out to be seen together publicly without any strings attached. He's not being bought, he's not acting as a bodyguard, and he's not expected to bang anyone at the end of the day.

Blitz meets Striker, Striker boosts up Blitz's ego immediately, they enter the pain games together, split the win, have a general good time, and at some point off screen, Blitz offers Striker a job at I.M.P.

And then Blitz catches Striker trying to kill Stolas. He's pissed, but not as pissed as he gets when Striker almost causes him to shoot Moxxie.

Blitz bites the man and puts a hole through the wall during the fight. They really go at it, it's a pretty intense fight, and you can really feel the rage in Blitz during it.

Putting a pin in Stiker for a minute, let's skip to the next episode, "Truth Seekers" we get a peek into Blitz's headspace surrounding Stolas. He feels chained to Stolas, but through his expressions during the staircase climb, it feels like he wants it to be more than just transactional. Well, at the least, hopes it can be more. Stolas swoops in at the end of the episode and (not without belittling Blitz verbally) saves Blitz and the people he most cares about. And then Stolas asks for a "reward". This 100% highlights Blitz's torn feelings. Does he let himself believe the care is real, or is it just for sex at the end? Well...

He got his answer didn't he? Stolas doesn't stand up to Ozzie for him. He doesn't make a clear statement that Blitz is more than just a cheap lay. And that hurts.

At the end of the night Blitz can barely get the words out to set a boundary for himself.

The next time we see these two interact is in "Seeing Stars". Do we get to see the resolve of the night at Ozzie's? Nope. But something has clearly changed since then, bc not only does Blitz show genuine concern for Stolas and try to reassure him, at one point, briefly, he's even receptive to Stolas's flirting again.

Two episodes later, Striker is back. Blitz very much so has complicated feelings surrounding Stolas at this point, but he shows not just concern, but both fear and rage again at the thought of Striker harming Stolas.

One could definitely argue at this point that this is about his means to continue his business and source of income and that of his employees, but there is something to be said about him almost cancelling Loona's doctor appointment to go save the rotten owl. Loona is always Blitz's first priority, and though a single vaccine might seem small in comparison to a life, if it really took five years for an appointment, that could be his daughter's life as well, assuming "hellbies" is just rabies but it's in hell. He thought about it. He was ready to turn the car around when Millie and Moxxie stepped in.

And even though Striker got majorly character assassinated in the episode, he tore up Stolas really bad. Him and his angelic weapons do carry real stakes with them, however much they want to make him a joke character. (Again, such a waste of potential)

With the narrative we know the writers are going with, Blitz does care about Stolas. The realization he can get hurt is probably shocking and terrifying to Blitz. He'd probably both be angry with himself for not going, but getting to the original point, he'd probably be furious at Striker.

Now I know Helluva has a huge tone issue. Is it a comedy? A lot of the time, yeah. Is it a drama? There's definitely drama in it. Romance? Highly debatable. Horror? I mean, it does take place in literal hell, so. Action? It's mixed in there too.

Personally though, I would like to think that the next time Blitz saw Striker, he'd tear him to shreds. I'd think the tone would be on the more serious side. He's hurt Millie and Moxxie very badly in Harvest Moon, he's hurt Stolas to the point he was hospitalized, that's three of the four people Blitz is currently close with. Narratively speaking, Striker could easily be Blitz's main external antagonist. It works both from a more action based tone, but also if you want to push Stolitz, which we know they do. And yet...

He's just an irritation for Blitz.

He didn't need to be there, it could have just been Crimson and his sharks. Would it have felt weird having him be a stand alone villain again just 3 episodes after he was first introduced, sure. But not any weirder than Stella's personal hitman looking for work in Greed and just happening to find it with said Mafia boss.

I know this was a Blitz/Fizz episode, I get that, I'm not complaining about that, hell, it literally could have been just them figuring their shit out together. But that just makes it even more glaring that Striker shouldn't have been there. This wasn't about him, this wasn't for him.

He's cowboy themed, right? And he's given Blitz plenty of reason to beat the absolute shit out of him? After hurting Stolas like that, (narratively speaking) his next showdown with Blitz should have been some high noon duel shit. Blitz rocked the vest in Harvest Moon, just give him the duel revolvers and start counting steps.

#helluva boss critical #helluva boss #helluva boss blitz #blitzø #striker #helluva striker #helluva boss critique #stolas #helluva stolas #Stolitz #helluva stolitz #helluva stella #helluva crimson #crimson knolastname

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doomalade · 8 months

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Hi this is still annoying me how Helluva picks up new villains and tosses them away like they’re nothing

Murder Family - Had a chance of returning as sinners that wanted revenge against IMP for killing them.

Robo Fizz - While a good set up for the real Fizz, could have played with Robo Fizzes being everywhere and Blitzø having to deal with a constant reminder of Fizz.

Verosika - She’s returned a couple times but really has been mostly just Blitzø’s ex. Idk, she serves her purpose I guess.

CHERUB - Where are they? What happened to them? What are they up to? What is going on? Wouldn’t IMP showing up on Earth again set off alarms for them to try and get revenge?

Stryker - He’s returned the most I would say. Not a huge issue so far, he works as is.

DORKS - Where are they? What happened to them? What are they up to? What is going on? Wouldn’t IMP showing up on Earth again set off alarms and they would try to capture or kill IMP?

Ozzie - He’s alright and serves his purpose. Not much to say here.

Chaz - Dead. Lol.

Moxxie’s Dad - Hoping to see more of him and the crime organization making it harder for IMP to operate…I am doubting that is gonna happen

Andrealphus - Can’t really get a read on him yet but he adds onto the issues of…

Stella - Oh you sweet summer child how all of your character nuance was stripped away from you to make you a dumb selfish murder happy character to increase sympathy for Stolas

#doom.txt #helluva boss #helluva critical #helluva critique #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #helluva b #helluva #helluva an

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bitchinbarzal · 6 months

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Like it’s Penny’s biggest competition so everyone is in town her parents, siblings, her uncles and cousins came in town, Ellen and Jim, and the Pettersons everyone is there. And Penny’s in the middle of her routine and she gets really dizzy and she falls and breaks her ankle maybe she gets a concussion too. Everyone is freaking out. And when they get to the hospital they realize Penny hasn’t been eating. She’s been starving herself because her boyfriend told her she needs to lose weight. And Quinn and Elias are the most angry because those are both of her dads. Everyone is ready to to murder toxic boyfriend. But that’s also when everyone realizes she’s not ok. She’s mentally and physically exhausted.

The nurse has never seen a waiting room so full.

Penny’s mom was the only one allowed in the room so she went in to see her daughter, spoke with her doctor and came back out to report to the family.

When she emerged from the room everyone noticed her face covered in tears

“What’s happening?” Quinn asks, taking his wife into his arms.

“She- she’s not been eating? She wouldn’t speak to me but her doctor said the psychiatrist spoke to her and she’s malnourished, she said something about her boyfriend made her do it?”

She felt Quinn tense up and everyone else in the room got uncomfortable looking around at one another.

Everyone knew they didn’t like her boyfriend already but what they heard made their blood boil.

Her parents are crying, trying to make sense of what is being said.

In the silence Milo stands up, brushing his hands on his jeans

“Well if nobody else is gonna…” and walks towards the exit. On a typical day Luke and his wife would’ve stopped their son from acting on anger. He was six and a half foot tall and built of pure muscle.

Ryder, Otis and Ozzy all stood up too. Following behind the Hughes boy.

With her parents so upset and confused Mrs Pettersson took it upon herself to coordinate everything with the doctors.

“She’s just our little girl”

“We’re all behind her, she’ll be ok”

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ahoppingmagician · 6 months

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So new Helluva Boss episode

Alright so I'll finally give Viv one praise because I am a sucker for kid characters being little beans, the ASL scene with Fizz and the kid was cute and didn't feel forced, it helped showed us how sweet Fizz is as a character and that he takes time out of his day to learn a form of communication for people who needs it.

Wow that felt good, I would love to praise her for more but nope it ends there. Such a shame but anyway time to shit on the Christmas tree guy and the 'humour' in this slowly dying show.

Alright Mammon is the only sin so far that actually is an asshole, to me that's a problem because why in the fresh baby making hell are Ozzie and Bee overlords if they don't partake in the sin they are in charge of.

Women aren't funny humour is like if you reached into a barrel of jokes about bad things and picked the first one, we all know it's stupid and it barely scratches the surface of sexism.

Moxxie,Millie,and Loona who? Sorry you thought this show was about four people running a buisness about murder? Well your just a daft little bitch because clearly its about star cross lovers who were force to be apart because of classism and racism I mean the poster tell it all CLEARLY...even though it has been stated many times that this is just a creepy fetishy relationship built on nothing but lies, lust and greed, that has hurt more people than mend past trauma. and the poster shows our four main characters running away from the owl like he was a villain or something.

So how would I fix this part of the show

Easy, just make the sins struggling to control their priminal urge, Make Bee want to force people into a coma by drinking but is trying so hard to repress it because she wants to be a good person, Ozzie is struggling to not act inappropriate with anyone he sees as desirable, but resists to prove that he can change for the better.

BOOM your theme of your show is that everyone has faults (some real bad faults) but if you put in the effort and the desire to change into a better person then you will atleast understand what you have done wrong or become a decent, if not good person.

#helluva boss #helluva boss criticism #anti helluva boss #helluva boss rant

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yes-divine-ruler · 1 year

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𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐒

Part 4

pairing: kai anderson x fem!reader

Taglist/ @v-love @evanpetersfav @demxnicprxncess @kitwalkersgfff @quicksilversg1rl @iruzias @alexxavicry @soaringcloud @laynna-mcknight @humdrumexistence @simp4petermaximoff f @sultrysullen @evan4ever @paujmr @jangsuzchap

cw: dub-con, knife play, home invasion, vaginal sex, bondage

wc: 2.734k

all parts

Kai was cleaning his mask when Ivy walked in. She eyed him, seeing the combat boots on his feet, the black trench coat over his back, his hair long and draped around his face. She knew that that meant business, and that business was going to be carried out tonight.

"What's on tonight Kai?" Ivy asked quietly, scared to catch Kai at a bad time.

"We spoke about this a few hours ago, where were you by the way? It was an important meeting," Kai couldn't let the tardiness of one of his cult members distract him from his upcoming mission, he kept his eyes on his mask as he wiped it clean.

"I'm sorry Kai, I had to pick up Ozzy from school, I told Winter, I dont know if she told you," truth was, Ivy was at the Butchery on Main, catching you up on the plan for tonight.

"Don't do it again," Kai grumbled, finally settling his mask down on the table and getting up from his seat on the sofa. His boots thumped against the floor as he approached Ivy, looming over her like a dark, menacing shadow.

"You know what happens when someone snitches, don't you Ivy? When someone betrays me?"

Kai's tone suddenly switched, and his eyes shone darker.

Ivy swallowed thickly, not breaking eye contact in case it made her look as guilty as she felt. She nodded curtly, "yes, Divine Ruler," her voice was no louder than a whisper.

"Good," Kai's face lights up into a smile, and he places a warm hand on Ivy's cheek, "get ready, we're leaving in 20."

Ivy let out the breath she didn't realise she was holding in as her leader ascended the basement stairs behind her, knowing that to his knowledge, she was still a devoted follower and not someone who was trying to sabotage him.

You thought that if your heart beat any faster, you might fall into cardiac arrest. You had a glock-19 shoved into the waistband of your pants, and a knife strapped to your thigh. You weren't taking any chances tonight knowing what was about to come. You knew that Kai had taken this upon himself to do, and that it would be you versus him when he barged in through your front door at 1 am on the dot.

The clock ticked agonisingly slow, showing that the time was only 45 minutes past midnight. No amount of preparation would ever have you prepared for your alleged murder, nor more time. Your knee shook in a frenzied fashion and your hands that were clasped together in your lap began to drip with sweat. You'd practiced this, Kai's break in, Kai confronting you, Kai pulling the knife from behind his back. This particular scenario played over and over in your head like a broken record.

You were shaken from your thoughts when the phone rang. You watched it from the corner of your eye as it rung - 1,2,3 - times, just like you'd discussed with Ivy. He was downstairs.

Sucking in a deep breath and reaching for your adderall, you popped more than your recommended dose and swallowed it with a glass of water. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and stood from your seat. The heavy thud of boots reverberated off the walls in the hallway leading up to your apartment, and soon, there was a slow knock on your front door. Your hand shook as your fingers hooked around the trigger and grip of the glock rested against your hip. There was no turning and running now.

You stayed put, trying to even your breathing as another loud trio of knocks rung through your apartment.

"I know you're in there, I just wanna talk," the sound of Kai's voice sent a shiver down your spine. Who was he kidding, talk? You still questioned where he got your address to begin with knowing fair well it wasn't public information. The questions you were asking yourself would have to wait; there was a much bigger matter at hand.

"Come on baby, don't be like this. I'm sorry for leaking our sex tape," Kai continued to taunt you through the wooden panes of your front door, every minute you weren't face to face with him sparing you yours or his life.

“If it’s any consolation, you were the best sex I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a lot of sex,” Kai spoke, followed by a tapping on the door with what seemed to be not his hand anymore, but something metal. It made your blood run cold.

When was he going to knock down the door so you could just end him? The sweat that beaded against your forehead began to drip onto your eyelashes, and your hands only shook more vigorously. Your eyes were glazing over in fear and soon you were worried a tear would fall.

“Let me in pretty, come on, it’s just me,” Kai didn’t let off, and it provoked words to spill from your throat.

“Fuck off Kai!” You covered your mouth with your shaking hand.

It goes silent, the only noise your heart feverishly beating in your ears. You wondered for a moment if he was still standing at your front door. Holding your breath, you tip-toe to the eye hole, and peek through it. No one. Your eye stays trained on the tiny glass pane for a few more minutes, before you finally let out your breath. Your body relaxes, and your fingers unwind from its tight grasp on your glock.

You wonder what made him change his mind while also wondering if he’s just playing games with you. What if he was just ducking out of sight? What if he was coming through your balcony? Your mind whirled with thoughts, so much so, you decided you’d just open the door and check for yourself.

You didn’t have time to scream, because a big hand wrapped itself around your mouth and pulled you back in through the ajar door into your apartment. Your eyes squeezed shut in fright; hot breath fanning your ear from behind you.

“You’re such a dumb bitch, did you really think I wouldn’t know? Didn’t think I’d see all the undercover cops waiting outside?” Kai’s angry tone coursed through your body and settles in the pit of your stomach.

You try and struggle out of his grip, your hands coming up to pry at his around your mouth. He fights back, pulling you down onto the floor and straddling your hips so that you can’t get away. The moment is tense, and soon you feel the cool metal that was knocking at your door against your throat.

“Make a fucking sound and I’ll slit your throat,” your eyes open to peer into the dark orbs belonging to Kai, his jaw locked and his lips in a tight straight line. Your eyes remain wide in shock, as he removes his hand for only a moment, bringing it back just as fast with a piece of duct tape.

He works at your wrists next, pulling rope from a backpack and bounding your wrists together. You don’t fight against him, knowing that you had now, definitely lost. What in your mind convinced you you could beat the master in mind games and trickery?

“Now,” he moves down your legs, bounding together your ankles. Nothing had ever made you feel more suffocated, “you’re going to call the cops and say it’s a false alarm, and I’m going to watch you with this knife against your throat.”

If your lips could move you’d be sobbing, the tears in your eyes blurring your vision as Kai gets off you to search for your mobile. He finds it almost instantly, and settles back down on top of you, the knife once again strategically placed at your jugular.

“The tape is coming off now,” Kai warns you, before ripping the tape from your lips. You gasp in pain and wonder if your skin had been taken with the tape.

Kai holds your phone up to your face, and unlocks it in an instant. He scrolls through what you suppose is your text messages, until his face lights up with content. He calls the number, and puts your phone on speaker. So badly did you want to scream for help, but ultimately you knew it would be the cause of your demise with the sharp blade already slightly piercing your skin.

“Everything okay?” Detective Wilson asks.

“Ye-yes, um-” Kai advises you to stop stuttering with the reminder that there is a knife to your neck, “I think it’s a false alarm detective, I’m so sorry to bother you, you can all go home.”

The detective pauses for a moment, as if he wasn’t convinced, until Kai urges you to speak again.

“Really, I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

“Alright miss, please, keep us in the loop.”

The line goes dead, and Kai immediately tosses your phone across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the floor with a loud crack.

“Now, tell me who my mole is.”

You suspected that Kai may already know who his mole was, if he was intelligent enough to work out you knew his plan. You restrained from saying anything, scared that it would cost another’s life. Right now, if he was to only take yours, at least everyone would know who did it.

“Just kill me instead, I know that’s what you really want,” you couldn’t believe those words were coming out of your mouth.

Kai’s facial expression remains unwavering, his eyebrows deeply furrowed, and his lips slightly parted with the exhale of small breaths.

Kai knew he didn’t want this. There was always something about you that attracted him to you, regardless of how different you were in every way. You weren’t scared of him, and were willing to kill another person to protect yourself. He admired your planning, your use of a mole from his cult, how you’d defended yourself after the sex tape was leaked. You were strong, and nobody could try and convince him otherwise.

He drops the knife and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Then he kisses you.

You’re still tied by the wrists and the ankles, but even if you weren’t, you wouldn’t try and move away. He had just tried to kill you, but you were still like putty in his hands. He was mean, condescending, downright evil, but the way his lips moved against yours sent butterflies free to fly around your stomach.

Maybe something inside you knew he wouldn’t go through with it, hence why you were so compliant. His lips felt like velvet against yours, his tongue soon to delve its way into your open and begging mouth. His big, warm hands cupped your cheeks, and when he finally pulled away, you didn’t want him to stop.

“What was that for?” Suddenly the adrenaline had worn off, and you were left wondering what all of this meant. His hands didn’t leave your face as he peered down into your soul.

“You need to admit to me who the mole is,” he spoke softly, and you noticed something glisten in his usually stone-cold eyes.

“Why would I tell you?” You fought back, but your voice was only just louder than a whisper.

“Do you want to stay tied up while I fuck you?”

The question startled you, but you didn’t have time to respond before Kai’s mouth was back on yours. He tilted his head to get better access to you, his dick twitching in his pants when he hears the moans vibrate from the back of your throat.

Every time you slept with Kai it felt like the circumstances couldn’t get any worse, but this definitely took the cake. His mouth felt warm and tasted like the smallest but perfect hint of mint toothpaste. His tongue slid over yours, massaging it softly, and when it was all becoming too much for him, he stopped. He needed to feel you again.

“Keep me tied up,” your mind was just as clouded by lust as his was, almost as if this totally fucked up situation never happened. Almost as if you were two people who weren’t at war with each other.

Kai chuckled, before reaching for the glock at your hip. He’d felt it pressed against his inner thigh this whole time but chose to ignore it; it wasn’t like you could do anything with it anyway. He tossed it to the side before checking if the safety was on, and then tore your pants down your legs.

When the cold air hit your skin, it pricked in small goosebumps. Kai ran his fingers down the length of your thighs, immersed in the way they looked and felt, like they were the most perfect things to exist. He left the knife strapped to your thigh when he rolled you over onto your stomach, and sucked in a breath when he saw the perfection of your ass.

You wiggled, and the tip of the knife pricked your thigh. It wasn’t painful, it actually felt good knowing now what was about to happen. Kai used his own knife to slice your panties down the middle and tear them off.

“How bad do you want it?” Kai was back to taunting you, your cheek pressed against the carpet of your living room floor as you heard his zipper unfasten.

“Please,” you pleaded, wanting to forget about everything else and feel him inside you.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me, Kai.”

You gasped at the feeling of Kai’s spit, as it landed directly on your cunt and dripped down onto your clit. He worked fast, reaching for your sensitive bud and toying with it between his fingers. You couldn’t hold back the pathetic whimpers as they forced their way out your lips.

The engorged tip of his cock was next, and all you could imagine was the veiny length and the way it pulsed in need. You were beginning to clench around nothing, until he finally sunk into you after spreading your pussy from behind.

He didn’t go easy, bottoming out inside you and groaning at how good it felt. His moans were like music to your ears now that the loud thumping of your heart had gone away. Your clit brushed against the carpet with every ravaging thrust, Kai’s skin hitting yours and making a blissful beat.

“Fuck,” Kai muttered, totally consumed by you and your sounds, loving the way you were tied up and at his disposal. You let out small whimpers, feeling the head of his cock almost brush your cervix with every piston of his hips.

“Oh my god that feels so good,” you almost cried, the way he was fucking you reaching every point you needed it to. No one had ever fucked you like this, or maybe it was all the danger mixed with the undeniable sexual tension.

“Your pussy feels amazing,” you’d never heard a nice thing come out of Kai’s mouth, but tonight he was full of compliments, “you get me so riled up, I can’t contain it.”

He was close, but he just wanted to fuck you forever. You were sure to be bleeding from your thigh now, but the thought didn’t stop the twist of an orgasm in your groin.

“Please Kai, I’m gonna cum,” you almost cried, tilting your hips upwards to feel the hit of his cock against your sweet spot. It unravelled you, releasing around his cock and clenching so tightly it made Kai lose control and come undone.

He pulled out, and spilled his cum across the perfect planes of your ass. You both panted in an attempt to get your breath back, and when his were finally even, he turned you back onto your back.

You looked up at him and he almost came again. You watched his cock as it leaked the remanence of his last load, swollen and pink in the best way possible.

“I’m going to fuck you, again and again, until you give in and tell me who the mole is,” Kai’s face showed he was serious, but his eyes glinted with a playfulness you could definitely get used to. Sensitive and fucked out, all you could do was nod.

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